


You Know My Name

by syrenpan



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dragon Age Secret Santa, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenpan/pseuds/syrenpan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For my Secret Santa InquisitorCullorian</p><p>Request was: “I'd like to see something warm-hearted between her [Saoirse (Circe is how it's pronounced) Trevelyan] and Cullen. A moment where they get to relax and just be themselves without the Inquisition crawling in.”</p><p>NB: Saoirse Trevelyan is InquisitorCullorian's character not mine.</p><p>Also, it's a bit obvious but I say it anyway: Spoilers for Dragon Age Inquisition. Consider yourself warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know My Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DragonWyrd316](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonWyrd316/gifts), [(InquisitorCullorian on Tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%28InquisitorCullorian+on+Tumblr%29).



‘That went well,’ Cullen mused out loud as he reigned in his Courser next to Saoirse’s Charger.

‘Are you referring to the empress on the Orlesian throne or our dance?’

Cullen shot her a look but as usual she only had a sweet smile on her lips that gave nothing away.

Was she teasing him?

They had only kissed once before Josephine had waved the invitation to the ball around and off they had gone to Orlais to play the Grand Game.

He had favoured Gaspard but the inquisitor had decided otherwise and he would stand by her decision.

She had to know that, didn’t she?

Everything between them was very new and it hadn’t helped that he had been the centre of quite insistent attention from both male and female suitors. Maker’s breath, when had that happened?

But they had danced in the end, just them. He had held her in his arms but quite clearly Saoirse had taken the lead. The Trevelyan noble being much more accomplished in such refined things than the base-born boy from Honnleath.

Cullen understood her enough not to say that out loud. Like him Saoirse had given her life to serving a greater good and that had meant giving up all worldly titles, and she had done it gladly. Yet she had grown up in a noble house with servants and dancing lessons while he had played with sticks in the mud.

Worlds should have stood between them but here they were and he needed her to know that he had her back no matter their differences.

‘Inquisitor, you know I support you whatever decision you make because I believe in you and your judgment.’

Saoirse brought her Charger to a halt, forcing Cullen to do the same.

Her golden eyes pinned him in place, searching for something. Years of training schooled his face into a mask of indifference but Cullen’s heart was racing.

‘Is something wrong? Have I offended you? Maker, I’m…’

‘Josephine! We’ll scout ahead. We’ll meet you at camp as planned,’ Saoirse shouted back to their companions. She didn’t even wait for a reply before she addressed him.

‘A race, Cullen. The pavilion!’

‘What? Now?’

‘On the count of three…’

Saoirse’s Charger danced restlessly, feeling its rider’s intention no doubt.

‘Are you…?’

‘One.’

‘I’m not sure this…’

‘Two.’

‘Alright, you’re on!’

‘Three.’

They let the reigns go and their mounts exploded with pent up energy. Long legs kicking the soft ground as they disappeared between the trees.

~*~

It was no contest. Saoirse’s Charger had given her enough of a lead that she had dismounted and perched herself on the side of a long dried up fountain before Cullen had even reached the ruined pavilion.

Birds sang and golden rays played between the lush green leafs as Cullen tied up his Courser.

‘You won, Inquisitor.’ Cullen said plainly as he walked toward her. She had untied her long dark her and combed it with her fingers, only to stop when she heard him speak.

She stood up and walked until she was right in front of him. She had to tilt her head up but not by much.

‘No,’ she said firmly.

Cullen frowned.

‘Look around you: late afternoon sun, a lost pavilion, you and me … _alone_.’ Saoirse emphasised the last word.

‘Oh.’ Cullen did look then. They were indeed quite alone. Perfect for an ambush. It was a good thing that they had cleared out the pockets of bandits on their way to Halamshiral. But the civil war had only ended last night, who knew who else was in these parts. They had better…

‘Cullen,’ Saoirse breathed softly, drawing his attention before she closed the gap between them.

Her lips were warm and soft, she tasted of mint. When she pulled back Cullen closed the gap again, engulfing her in his arms, walking, moving, guiding her until he could feel her back resting against the side of the pavilion.

His tongue slipped into her mouth and she yielded, letting him explore her, his hands cupping her rear, lifting her, long legs wrapping around him. He wanted her. He hadn’t realised how much until now.

‘…Saoirse,’ Cullen breathed against her lips as he came up for air.

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Yes.’

**The End**


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